


can't see for the thorns

by thimble



Series: SASO 2017 [30]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Demonic Possession, Exorcisms, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-10 19:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12305835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble/pseuds/thimble
Summary: It's simple enough to remember, Exorcism 101: you shouldn't let your guard down around demons.(And you definitely shouldn't let one into your bed.)





	can't see for the thorns

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22341.html?thread=12879173#cmt12879173) prompt.

It's his fault—this, Tatsuya knows almost immediately. The second Atsushi turns to him and speaks in a way that was decidedly  _not_ Atsushi, what goes through his mind, self-centered as it is, is not a question about what had gone wrong; it is,  _God, what did I do?_  
  
Because what had gone wrong is simple enough to deduce, give enough years in the business. Somewhere between their argument and their exorcism of the house, Atsushi's walls had lowered enough to allow something to step into his skin, something that's only possible in someone's worst moments.   
  
Something that would not have happened had Tatsuya not provoked him, fostering the anger that resided in Atsushi so that it could rise and meet his own, just because he couldn't stand to be the only one acting so ugly.   
  
Bile rises to his throat as the  _thing_  contorts Atsushi's lips in an approximation of his rare smile, seeing through the emptiness in Tatsuya's threats. It doesn't have to dig too deeply in Atsushi's consciousness to realize what they are to each other, despite the animosity that had been in their last conversation. It knows Tatsuya could never hurt him.   
  
"I think I'll stay here a while," it says, taking a lollipop from the glove compartment, deftly unwrapping it, and sticking it into its mouth, the way Atsushi would. "Aren't you gonna drive, Muro-chin?"  
  
Tatsuya grits his teeth, sets his eyes on the road, and takes them home, for lack of anywhere else to go.   
  


* * *

  
  
It sickens him, how much he can stomach most of it. Surely it's some kind of a testament to how much torture humans can endure, but all it proves to him is that he isn't trying hard enough to find a solution. Instead, he watches it parade around Atsushi's body in the apartment they share, settling into Atsushi's clothes, into his mannerisms, with frightening ease. If Tatsuya ignores the current situation, just for an instant, the thing in front of him can undoubtedly pass for Atsushi.   
  
He knows, too, that the longer he lets it stick around, the harder it would be to take it out, but he'd tried that only to have it toy with him, pretending that the exorcism was hurting Atsushi himself, and Tatsuya had been too scared to try it again, afraid it really might affect Atsushi instead.   
  
And so, they play house. He sits across from it at breakfast, goes with it on hunting jobs, lies beside it at night. At this point, he has no idea what it wants, because the novelty of possession should've worn out. By now, it should've moved onto another host, or tried something more malevolent.   
  
Then it comes home with Atsushi's hands covered in blood, shrugging as Tatsuya stares at the sight in horror.   
  
"What did you  _do_?" he asks, even though the answer is obvious.   
  
"That guy put his hands on you."  
  
It means, the drunk that had tried to make a pass at Tatsuya earlier, at the pub they frequent after work. It means, it doesn't care about consequences, not the lives of civillians or whether or not anyone might have seen Atsushi in the midst of a kill.  
  
It means, it's come to think of Tatsuya as his own.  
  
"Wash your hands," whispers Tatsuya, for lack of anything else to say.   
  


* * *

  
  
Atsushi comes back to him, one night, and it would undermine his efforts to assume it happened randomly. He must've been struggling it for a while, waiting for the right moment to take himself back, if only for a short period of time.   
  
"It's me, Muro-chin," he says, shaking Tatsuya in his sleep. "Wake up."  
  
Tatsuya's eyes open, awoken by Atsushi's voice—Atsushi's, not the demon's. Even after not hearing it for months, he knows.   
  
"Are you... are you here? Is it gone?"  
  
Atsushi shakes his head, seemingly resigned. "It's still fighting me now. That's why we have to hurry."  
  
Tatsuya sits up, nodding and all too ready. "Yes, of course. Do you know how to get rid of it?"  
  
"Yes," says Atsushi, quietly. "You're not gonna like it."  
  
Atsushi tells him, and then he's the one shaking his head, a string of no's leaving his lips. "There has to be another way. There has to be—I can't, Atsushi." His voice cracks. "I won't."  
  
"Please," says Atsushi, and it sounds like pleading. "This is the only way it'll leave you alone."  
  
"And why won't it leave?" asks Tatsuya, wildly. "What's so special about me?"  
  
"It's my fault." Atsushi's palms are on either side of his face, keeping it steady so their eyes can meet. "It loves you, 'cause I love you."  
  
Tatsuya never would've thought he'd dread hearing those words coming out of Atsushi's mouth. His fingers are on Atsushi's wrists, his grip bruising, and there are premature tears in his eyes when he speaks.   
  
"What do I do?"  
  
Atsushi smiles, almost in relief. His thumb brushes over Tatsuya's cheek, lingering, before he pulls his hand away to point to the bedside drawer, where they keep the knives.


End file.
